<i><b>Wicked Alice Poetry Journal
wicked alice| summer 2007

trans. by Adam Elgar
1998’ by Antonella Anedda

Now the only blessing for the street is rain,
and something in the trembling water
we can follow like a light redeemed
keeping close to the glow,
to the stove where a meal is leavening.
Nothing unlike the life we’ve always led:
plates laid out like litter for the evening meal,
a light through a chink in the wall
open to lands of peace.

Cedarwood flames along the edges of the field
lighting the faces of the absent,
their initials erased by the latest eruption:
no pain, just hands swatting
away the smoke,
the night within night. A crack opens.

(Literal version)

Now it is only rain that blesses the street
and in the water that trembles [there is] a kind of redeemed light to
It will only be a small distance from the radiance.
From the oven where the food rises
with brown clouds
all scarcely different from the life of always:
something rejected in the gesture which places the dishes for the
a light in the crevice of the wall
opened to lands of peace.

Fire of cedar along the edges of the field.
Thus we will see the faces of the absent
their initials overwhelmed by the volcanic pebbles
no pain but the hands moving
to send away the smoke
and the night within the night: a crack.


Ora è solo pioggia che benedice la strada
e nell'acqua che trema quasi una luce redenta da seguire.
Sarà una piccola distanza dal fulgore.
Dal forno dove il cibo si innalza
alle nuvole brune
tutto appena diverso dalla vita di sempre:
uno scarto nel gesto che depone i piatti per la sera
una luce nella crepa del muro
schiusa verso terre di pace.

Fuoco di cedro lungo i bordi del campo.
Così vedremo i volti degli assenti
le iniziali dei nomi travolte dai lapilli
nessun dolore ma il moto delle mani
che allontanano il fumo
e notte tra la notte: una fessura.